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horses’ rolling eyes and stomping hooves, and none braved the space inside the makeshift corral.

      “What happened?” the wagon master demanded, breathing heavily after his dash from the wagon circle. “Who fired that shot?”

      Matt remained silent, leaving it to Josiah to explain. He did so in a few succinct words and jerked his head toward the two retreating figures, now barely discernible in the darkness.

      “Will they come back and try again?” nineteen-year-old Frank Malone asked, as he watched the would-be thieves hightailing it across the prairie.

      “It’s unlikely,” Jed Smith volunteered. “They’d be fools to try anything else tonight, with the entire camp on alert.”

      Frank’s younger brother, Cody, cleared his throat, his blond peach fuzz gleaming in the lantern light. “Shouldn’t we go after them? Form a posse or something?”

      “There’s no need,” Elias countered. “They didn’t take any of the horses. Besides, they have too much of a head start, and tracking is near impossible at night.”

      Several men voiced their agreement.

      Miles Carpenter moved closer to the rope fence encircling the horses. “Good work running off those thieves, Josiah.”

      “I didn’t do it alone. Matt had a hand in it. In fact, he’s the one who first spotted them.” He flicked a quick glance toward Miles.

      The news plainly caught the wagon master by surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Job well done, Matt.”

      The kid was practically hidden behind the large bulk of one horse. Almost as if he would’ve preferred that no one took any notice of him.

      He kept his head down as he replied, “Thanks.”

      Miles held his lantern aloft to read the face of his pocket watch. “It’s almost midnight. Since you men assigned to the second watch are already here, we may as well change the guards now.” No one uttered a protest, and he continued, raising his voice to be heard by the small crowd that had gathered. “The rest of you folks head on back to the wagons and get some sleep.”

      The group dispersed and soon only Josiah and Matt remained, still tending to the horses.

      Josiah removed a hastily tied rope from around one horse’s neck. “I’m grateful to you for spotting the thieves when you did, Matt. If not for your vigilance, they might have succeeded in stealing the horses before we could stop them.” And that would have meant his livelihood. All his plans for starting a ranch in Oregon Country hinged on these horses. He patted the neck of the closest one. “Then you helped keep the animals from bolting. That puts me in your debt twice over.”

      The kid’s back remained turned toward Josiah as he answered. “You’ve helped me a time or two. So, why don’t we call it even?”

      “Fair enough.” Judging the horses sufficiently calmed, Josiah exited the enclosure, but moved no farther. “You should head back to the wagon circle.”

      “Aren’t you coming?”

      “No. I’m going to bed down here for what’s left of the night.” This patch of dirt was just as comfortable as the spot where he’d intended to sleep near the covered wagons.

      “Do you expect more trouble?” Though darkness masked Matt’s expression, a hint of worry sounded in his voice.

      Josiah shook his head. “But I’ll rest easier if I stay close.”

      “Well, then, good night.”

      “See you in the morning,” Josiah returned.

      The boy’s nod seemed stiff as he walked away.

      Watching his retreating back, Josiah contemplated the puzzle that was Matt Prescott. Just when he thought he had the kid figured out, Matt did something to surprise him.

      But perhaps the boy’s expertise with horses wasn’t so unexpected. After all, back in Tennessee Josiah had encountered his fair share of well-to-do gentlemen who were accomplished horsemen, though sadly inept in other respects.

      Several of them had been willfully ignorant besides, with no desire to learn. That didn’t appear to be the case with Matt, however. Was it because he had no alternative but to adapt to a different life than the one he’d been raised to lead?

      What was his story? The kid was strangely close-mouthed about himself.

      Leaving Josiah to draw his own conclusions. How close those were to the actual truth, he could only guess.

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